


A Hymn of Ice and Snow

by claespi



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claespi/pseuds/claespi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After trying to repent for crimes committed, Thor becomes a slave to the Jotun King Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hymn of Ice and Snow

The procession was slow through the snow which crunched underneath heavy feet that moved slow and purposefully. A long line of blue among the stark white, they marched. The children at the front with their carefully crafted instruments quietly plucked at the strings and blew their wind instruments; the elders in the back sang the mourning hymns. In the procession of mourners, there was a gap in the line at the middle. There, a single figure walked carrying the body in her arms. 

She carried the appearance of a female, as they all do for this final march. It was as a female that the being was first carried into the world; it was as a female that it would be carried out. She, their chief, held the delicate body of the prince in her arms, staring resolutely ahead. Tears froze to her cheeks as they fell, giving her the appearance of wearing a mask of ice. Cradled in her arms, the body of her son lay. Frost clung to the fur, staining the gray with white. He had been carefully cleaned, his insides scraped out and burned, releasing his essence into the Wayward. Now it was the march to the final resting place, where he would be surrounded with ice and preserved forever. 

The elders at the back crooned with sorrow, their singing echoing among the snow and ice. Aside from the instruments and hymns, the crowd was otherwise silent. Even the birds remained quiet as they stared down their beaks at the funeral procession. They watched the flags of the people whip gently through the air, could smell the stale blood that could not be washed out of the bones of the boy-prince. 

At long last, they had reached the pillars of ice. The High Priestess stepped forward, followed by the many elders to assist with the ritual. With warbled voices, they called forth the magic within themselves, fashioning an icy casket bound with runes and glyphs to preserve the form that would rest inside. The crowd parted, allowing their leader to step forward with the body. For their beloved Chief to lay her son to rest. 

She walked with bare feet across the snow, stepping upon it without sinking like the others. Her hair swayed gently across the back of her thighs, offering her the only covering on her body; she wore no clothing. Her skin, the deepest of blue, was a strong contrast to the gray body in her arms. Small compared to the giants she walked by, her back was straight, her gaze resolute. Even though her face was kept carefully blank, the frozen tears on her cheek and the endless ocean of sorrow in her eyes betrayed her grief. She approached the tomb and carefully lay the wolf's body within it's cradle. She swept her hand along its snout, touched its closed eyes and then bowed forward, placing her head upon its flank as she wept. After a moment, she regained her composure and stood straight once more, nodding tightly to the elders and the High Priestess, who called forth the magic to close the crypt. Once shut, the Chief made small sweeping gestures with her arm. Her body sang with sadness as she carved across the ice: Fenrir, crown prince, gentle scholar, sweet child. 

The Chief turned to face her people once more, staring across each of the mourner's faces. She said nothing, for what could she say? What could the mother of a dead child say to her people? Words were useless, so she said nothing. She just looked, hoping that she could convey strength, hoping that the silence could honor her beloved son more than any words she could possibly imagine. Her people seemed to understand, for they bowed before the crypt and Queen. 

After some time, the procession broke. Some came forward to place offerings before the crypt, to pray to the lost prince. Others left, returning to the palace to prepare for final grieving ceremonies that evening. A lone man approached the Chief; in his hands he held a helmet. It was silver; strong metal with wing-like designs going up the sides. He wordlessly handed it to his leader, who took it and stared at her own reflection in the metal.

“You have found him?” Her voice quiet but icy like the pillars around her. She stared at her own red eyes, pitying her own sorrow.

“He awaits you in the throne room,” The warrior told her, clasping his hand over his heart to show his respect for her loss. She had to crane her neck slightly to look up at him, her hands gripping the helmet tightly. 

“How many?” She asks.

“Only him.”

“And their King? Did he deign to grant us audience?”

“We left your message with the gatekeeper, as per your instructions.” The warrior informed her. “We do not know when or if he shall arrive. We have an escort waiting at the bifrost site.”

The Chief nodded shortly. 

“Good. Clear my chambers and light the fires. I wish my guest to be comfortable while I deliberate my decision.” 

: : : : : : :

The tale of Loki and the Frost Giants was a popular one to tell, even among the Aesir. 

Six centuries ago, the Jotun King Laufey was in position on the throne. It was he who had ran the kingdom into the ground; a large amount of pride paired with an insatiable greed, he had engaged in war with many worlds, costing thousands of lives and the respect of their people. A viable dictator, he created fear and chaos. But then a smooth coup had taken place, and his son was on the throne. With a firm and steady hand, Loki Laufeyson had directed his people into a new age, extending—if not a hand of friendship—a gentle truce to any kingdoms they had battled with in the past, including that of Asgard. 

Loki was a benevolent king and a fierce warrior. His skill in magic was unlike that any could ever describe. Shortly after Loki had taken the throne, a clan of Ylfing's had challenged him. Up until then, Loki had preached a world of harmony, of peace. But when he saw his kingdom was being threatened, vengeance was swift and unflinching. Travelers went to Jotunheim to see the carnage and bring news back to their own kingdoms. Loki, the Frost King, was a force to be reckoned with.

Yes, Thor was well-versed in the myths that surrounded the Jotun. Because of this, no one could imagine the horror that filled Thor when he realized that the stray beast he had slain, out of nothing but sport, was the young child of this King. When two messengers had approached him and politely requested that he accompany him to Jotunheim for a personal audience with the king, Thor had been extremely confused. He had been hunting in the mountains, a personal holiday to unwind from his training to become the future king of Asgard. 

“Why does your King summon me and not my father?” Thor had asked. “If it is political reasons he wishes to discuss, he would find the Allfather to be well-versed.”

The messengers exchanged a glance before looking back at Thor.

“It involves politics of a sort, but not in the way you might think.” The shorter of the messengers said. Though to say short was a bit unfair, for he still stood four heads taller than Thor. “It involves the murder of the Jotun Prince Fenrir.”

Thor frowned slightly, scratching his beard in thought. “I have not heard of this prince.”

“You wouldn't,” said the shorter messenger.

“Prince Fenrir was on a pilgrimage to become in touch with his heritage; his ancestors hailed from Asgard. He wished to become acquainted with the land, to hunt where his people always hunted,” The taller and more brutish-looking Frost Giant said. “He was barely approaching adolescence, and it was your hammer that struck him down.”

Thor stood up quickly, casting a disgusted and affronted look between the messengers, whose faces remained impassive. 

“I would never have killed a child!” Thor spat. “How dare you accuse me of this crime!”

“It is not an accusation that we are making,” The shorter messenger reminded him. “We act as a vessel for our King's words. Do not be so heated with us.”

“You tracked and hunted the child.” The brutish messenger interjected, his voice hard. “You did not need the meat. You did not need the pelt. Once your hammer bludgeoned him, you left his body to rot. Luckily our scouts were quick enough that the birds had not begun to feast on his essence. Our great Chief Loki is summoning you for trial and consequence for the murder of his son and crown prince Fenrir.” 

“This is outrageous. There must be some mistake!” Thor said, pacing agitatedly. 

“There is no mistake,” The shorter messenger informed. “When the scouts consulted the area and the creatures living within, they were able to relay that an Aesir with a golden mane and a feathered helmet was who struck down the boy. All accounts point to you, Thor Odinson.”

“You lie!” Thor bellowed. “I have been here, hunting for several weeks! I have not seen a child, Frost Giant or otherwise!”

“He is not Frost Giant,” The larger Frost Giant said. “He is descended from wolves. Did you not go through great lengths to capture this animal before bludgeoning him to death with your hammer?”

Thor's heart had beat furiously in his chest. Five days before, he had found the tracks of a wolf, massive in size. He had tracked it for hours, finding it's skill in evasive maneuver exciting. Never before had he discovered an animal with such a furious desire to survive. With the realization that there was a reason for the skillful evasion, because this was not a true animal but rather a cognitive descendent, a prince, in the appearance of a wolf, Thor felt himself growing ill. He had tracked the wolf, finally cornering it in a cave before taking it down with his hammer. It had stayed in the corner, trying to furiously cram its way into a crack in the cave wall. The memory of this wolf and the knowledge that it had been a mere child drove Thor over the edge. The messengers waited patiently for Thor to stop retching behind a tree before gripping his arms and escorting him to Jotunheim.

::::

Though this was a world of ice, Thor found himself sweating beneath his hunting cloak. The messengers had taken him through the bifrost, leaving a scroll with Heimdall and a formal oath that Thor was not to be harmed until Odin could meet with Loki to discuss his sentence. They were merely taking him into custody, it seemed. 

So they had taken him to the Jotun palace, leaving him in the throne room with three guards and a servant to keep him company. 

“Our King is currently accompanying the prince's body to it's final resting place,” The messenger had told him as they walked into the throne room. “It will be several hours before he returns.”

While he waited, Thor had to watch groups of various Frost Giants enter and exit the large room, carrying the bodies of dead animals, which they tossed down beneath a large archway made of ice. 

The archway itself was enormous; it's top was only inches away from touching the high vaulted ceiling. Swooping curves and runes had been carved in among it and at the top, someone had carved the image of a wolf howling in front of the moon. Despite its size, the pile of animals beneath the arch was nearly as large. Most of the animals were rather small but Thor could recognize a hulking beast towards the bottom.

It was greatly unsettling to see grand arcs with expanses of dead animals beneath it. Thor often looked toward it with curiosity before shame overtook him and he looked away for a moment before his eyes strayed back. A guard standing nearby seemed to notice.

“Our prince was to have a long life,” He said in a deep rumble. “He would have followed in the King's footsteps. Become a great hunter and later warrior. His tour in Asgard was his first true hunt, where he would have begun his pilgrimage to become a man.

“Due to the fact that he never completed it, however,” The Frost Giant looked down at Thor and though there was no true emotion etched in his features, Thor could see fury and grief mingled in the red eyes of the guard. “We offer these kills to compensate for each hunt he was to complete. Tonight, their essences are to be burned, where they will move through the arc to the great beyond so that Prince Fenrir can hunt them in the Wayward. 

Thor cast his eyes down in shame, staring at his own feet rather than the archways he waited for King Loki to arrive. He also wondered how long before Odin arrived and how he would get him out of this mess. If he even could. The act of murder was one that required great punishment. The act of murdering a child meant death. The fact that Thor had murdered a child prince? He could not begin to imagine the tortures he was going to face. 

A lone figure entered the throne room; a young feminine child with long ink black hair and skin the color of exotic blue flowers. Though she appeared quite young, she still came up to Thor's shoulder and appeared to be strong, but also lithe. She stopped in front of Thor, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Chief wishes me to escort you to the royal chambers,” The child said, her voice light and gentle. Thor motioned for her to do so and that he would follow. As he walked several paces behind the girl, the guards followed after.

As they walked throughout the halls of the palace, Thor noticed several tables full of food and mead laid out as offering, usually placed near open windows. Outside, he could see the two moons cross in the sky, signaling that night was approaching. The further they walked through the palace, the warmer Thor grew. Though whether that was due to his nerves or a raise in temperature, he wasn't actually sure. His mouth felt dry and though he knew it was terrible to think so, he wished that he could take a glass of mead from one of the offering tables they were walking by. He instantly scolded himself for the thought, frowning deeply.

They finally came to the end of a hall, where a guard was standing outside a large wooden door. He opened the door, bidding them inside. Once inside, the servant immediately went to the large fireplace, stoking the small flames inside until it had grown into a massive fire. The room grew warm almost at once, and Thor found it quite pleasing until he saw the guards and the servant were quite uncomfortable. They weren't sweating (but due to their extremely cold climate, Thor wondered if they were capable of doing that at all) but they did look quite cross and their faces had grown flush, giving them the appearances of overripe berries.

After a moment of quietly wondering if he should say anything at all, Thor approached the servant. “I do not wish to cause you all discomfort. I am aware that the fire is for my doing only, and though I appreciate the thought, there is really no need.”

“It is my Chief's wishes that you are most comfortable.” She said simply. 

Before Thor could reply, the chamber doors were opened. The servant and guards quickly bowed down, but the guards only went to one knee while the servant was on both and her head was bowed so low that her face was nearly touching the ground.

In walked a woman, tiny by Frost Giant standards; she was quite slim, but extremely fit. She was also naked. Thor balked, looking pointedly down at his feet. The woman quietly greeted her guards and servant, bidding them to stand. Behind her, a warrior closed the door and she stopped in front of Thor. She was nearly his height, but still she still seemed to gaze down at him from high above. 

“I wish that you would look upon me,” The woman said and Thor raised his head, unsure of where to rest his gaze. Staring into her eyes would be too bold but being that she was naked, it would be improper to look anywhere else. He settled for looking just to the side of her face, where her thick black hair reflected the firelight, casting blue highlights in the strands. 

The woman gazed freely at Thor's own face, looking deeply as if searching for some sort of clue. Finally, she inclined her head. “You may make your introductions, if you wish.”

For a brief moment, Thor said nothing. He was extremely confused as to why this naked woman was standing in front of him asking for a formal telling of his name without offering hers. However, at the slightest raise of the woman's eyebrows, Thor remembered his place and the circumstances that brought him here. The lowliest of servants could walk in here and demand anything of him; Thor was not in a position where he could say no. Though mjolnir was strapped at his side still (no one made any attempts to take it from him, either due to the fact that they knew they would be unable to or because they knew Thor would not fight, he did not know) he was greatly outnumbered and also in the custody of the King who's son he had murdered. If Thor were to be murdered at this moment, no punishment would fall on Loki's kingdom, this much he knew.

“I am Thor Odinson of Asgard, son of Odin Allfather, King of Asgard.” Thor said, bowing forward. “I offer my deepest of apologies and beseech your forgiveness.”

The woman's eyes blazed momentarily before she turned away from Thor, looking at the fire. “I hoped it is quite comfortable in here. We hardly ever have a fire lit.” 

“It is lovely. Thank you, my Lady.” Thor thanked softly. A quick glance around the room told him that the servant and guards were still extremely uncomfortable in the heat, but the woman seemed unconcerned. Perhaps it was due to her lack of clothing, but that was doubtful. Her hair was long, down to her knees, and it gave her a blanket of black that shielded her body from view. “Forgive me if I seem persistent, my Lady, but will Loki be joining us soon?”

The woman looked over her shoulder at Thor with a curt expression. “I am Loki, Thor Odinson. I thought that much was obvious.” 

Thor made a little noise of surprise, his face flushing as he bowed forward, deeper this time. 

“Forgive me, I thought...I don't know what I thought. Forgive me, Your Highness.” Thor repeated. Loki continued to look into the fire.

“Your father is due to arrive at the palace in twenty minutes time,” Loki said quietly. “We may speak if you wish, but I do not want to discuss heavy matters without the presence of your King. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Thor said in a hushed voice but continued to stand awkwardly before the Jotuns. Finally, Loki turned back toward Thor, exposing her body to him as her curtain of hair swept behind her blue shoulders.

“You assumed I was a consort to the King,” Loki mused. “I often forget how fragile other societies are that they feel the need to place power in what they believe to be the stronger sex.” 

“So this is a matriarchy?” Thor asked curiously. “Don't they speak of you as a King?”

Loki inhaled deeply, running her thumb across her lower lip and thought before slowly shaking her head.

“No, because I am not a woman. I am a King.” Loki said. “We do not distinguish difference between the sexes here; warrior, servant, sorcerer, musician: they are all equal, all the same blood and talent. They are these things first and foremost, which I believe things to be different in Asgard, I'm sure. There, you are a man before you become a warrior. A woman before you become a caregiver. But you see, we Jotuns are not bound to the rules of sex as you Aesir are; we are like a river, flowing and changing.”

Loki crossed the floor, to a pair of chairs by the window. She gracefully sat on one of the chairs and made no gesture for Thor to join her.

“I am leader to these people. I am their King and their Queen and anything else they require me to be.” Loki inhaled deeply. “But enough on simple questions such as that. Surely you must be getting warm in your cloak. Perhaps Yova can take that for you? And may they fetch you a refreshment?”

Indeed, Thor was beginning to sweat under his cloak, but he believed it was due to the circumstances rather than the fire. However, he permitted the servant, Yova, to take his cloak, though denied refreshment. She folded it and went back to her place in the corner, holding the cloak in her arms. He turned back. He half expected Loki to offer him a chair, but she didn't move. She merely stared up at him. 

“I appreciate the hospitality you've shown me, Your Highness,” Thor began slowly. “But...I cannot begin to understand why you've shown kindness.” 

Her red eyes seemed to look right through him, as if she was watching a spectacle going on behind him. 

“Because I wish you to understand that we are a civilized people. Because unlike your people, we care about the comfort of others.” Her eyes hardened. “We don't kill children for sport.”

There was a moment before Thor bowed forward slightly. “Your Highness, I wish to apologize--”

“I am not interested in apologies, formal or otherwise.” Loki interrupted with a sigh. “It would be wise for you to forget my words; it was wrong to mention it without the presence of your king to defend you.”

“I need not the presence of my king to make the same statements I would make. To apologize,” Thor said solemnly, looking to the floor. “I know what I did was wrong and I wish to begin repenting for my crimes.”

Loki stared intently at Thor for a moment before she rose to her feet. Though she was small by Frost Giant standards, she was tall by Aesir ones. Her height was only an inch or so below Thor's. She was built narrowly, but every limb was coiled with muscle. She had the grace of a mountain cat. As she stepped closer, Thor became distracted by her proximity, his eyes wandering before he could reign his gaze in. Her skin was a deep blue, even darker than the rest of the Jotuns he had seen, like the poisonous berries Thor could find in the hillsides. He could see the tattoo-like lines in her skin, so dark a shade of blue they appeared almost black. Her lips were of the same shade of navy blue, along with her nipples. Thor quickly cast his eyes away.

“You mean to say that you wish to speak without counsel?” Loki asked quietly, seriously. “Without the support of your royal lines who might bargain for a lesser consequence than the one I might give you?”

Thor swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yes. I would speak to you as Thor. Not as the Prince of Asgard, but rather than the man who spilled the blood of a child without knowing better.” 

Loki seemed to be at a loss for words. She stared at him with an intense expression and she extended her hand. 

“You agree to speak to me as a man and not as royalty?” She asked. Thor hesitated but clasped her slight hand in his, feeling pain coarse up and down his body for her hand felt like gripping a piece of metal left out in the snow. Thor let out a low and strangled noise of pain, but did not look away from Loki's eyes. She released his hand quite quickly and turned away, holding her own hand to her chest and closing her eyes. 

The doors opened and Odin walked in, looking around the room quickly before striding quickly to Thor, grabbing him by the shoulders. 

“What have you done this time, boy?” He murmured quietly, his voice hard but his eyes soft. Thor opened his mouth to speak but Loki interjected from her place across the room.

“I graciously thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Odin,” She said. “But your presence is no longer required. You may leave if you wish.”

Odin looked deeply alarmed, which made Thor begin to wonder if he had made a mistake. Perhaps speaking without royal counsel had a deeper meaning in Jotunheim than it did on Asgard. Odin's grip on his shoulders tightened to an almost painful degree.

“What did you do?” Odin asked in a whisper. Loki turned back, her hands falling back to her sides. She looked at Odin for a moment, as though expecting him to leave but seeing that he didn't plan to, slowly blinked and looked over at Thor. 

“You are speaking to me as a man, not as a royal. Because we are no longer equals in status, you are required to bow first if you wish to address me.” She quietly said. Odin sighed heavily, letting go of Thor and running his hand down his face.

“You fool.” He spat at Thor, who grimaced but acquiesced, going to one knee and bowing his head forward slightly. Loki looked down at him with a stony expression. 

“You may begin to make your apologies, if you have any to offer.”

Thor took a deep breath, looking across the floor and feverishly trying to collect his thoughts. Guilt and shame were stirring like an unpleasant mead in his stomach. For a moment, he was worried he might begin retching again. But he looked up and saw a gentleness in Loki's demeanor. He began speaking.

“There is no proper apology I could offer. No gesture I could make that could even begin to make up for the hurt I have caused. My ignorance is no excuse; I should have been more aware. Realized that I was hunting a sentient being. A child. 

“I cannot begin to perceive the grief you are feeling, your Majesty. A parent should never outlive their child. This horrible crime is made worse by the fact that it was committed by a royal. I am a representation of my people. My actions speak for the actions of my people. I only plead with you not to punish them as you would punish me. Please, allow the consequences to fall on me and me alone. I also beseech you not to leave the throne without an heir.”

Loki looked sharply at Odin before seeming to remember that he didn't have a place as counsel here. She crossed her arms, turning her gaze back upon the man bowed before her.

“You are the only son?” She asked quietly. 

“The only son fit for ruling a kingdom. Though, given my crimes, I'm not to be sure of that anymore.” Thor said even more softly. 

Loki sighed thoughtfully, looking around the room for a moment. 

“And what would you have your punishment be, Thor?” She finally asked.

“I beg your pardon?” Thor looked up at her with a confused expression. 

“You ask that I do not kill you so that you may one day rule over Asgard, but you have rightly emphasized that the murder you have committed needs a punishment. So what would you have it be?”

Thor continued to look at her with confusion. “I don’t--”

“Imagine you are in my place,” Loki said with a very slight air of irritation. “I will give you a moment if you need it, but imagine that it was my son that had killed yours. What would you do?”

They stared at each other, both knowing what Thor was thinking: It would be death or war. Thor would either have the murderer publicly humiliated and executed or wage war on Jotunheim. There was no other option. Knowing this, Thor continued to stare up at Loki but remained silent.

“I see,” Loki said after a long moment. She looked away from Thor, over at the servant girl standing in the corner with Thor's cloak. “Yova, will you give that to me?”

The servant girl walked over, handing Loki the cloak. Though the temperature in the room was quite comfortable to Thor and Odin, there was a definite look of peak discomfort present on Yova's face as well as the guards. However, Loki seemed to be quite fine. She stared down at the cloak in her hands, running her slim fingers across the fur. Thor felt whatever hope he had for himself crumble. His cloak was lined with wolves fur.

Loki looked at Thor once again, the hurt bewilderment and agony present on her face. She turned, throwing the cloak in the fire. Everyone in the room watched it burn silently. When Loki turned back, her face was impassive once more.

“I do not think you truly understand the depth of your actions, Thor.” She said. “That is why you are going to attend tonight's services for my son. There, you will see the grief of my people. Watch as we finally put to rest my son's spirit and begin sending offerings to him in the Wayward. Afterward, I will decide your fate.”

Thor felt pure dread and horror slowly gripping him like an icy hand, but he nodded. Loki nodded back slightly before looking over at Odin.

“Odin, though you are a King and a good man, I cannot permit you to attend these ceremonies. They are sacred to my people and you have not earned the right--”

“Forgive the interruption, Loki, but I understand completely.” Odin said, raising a hand in a calming gesture. “I will make camp outside the boundaries of your kingdom and return when summoned to oversee Thor's sentence. Would you be so kind as to send someone to summon me at the right time?”

“Of course,” Loki said. “I must also inform you that we do not permit outsiders to hunt at this time, but Yova can send a basket of fruits and breads with you, if you wish.”

Thor thought of the mountain of dead animals in the throne room and felt his stomach turn once again.

“Very kind but unnecessary. I will return later this evening.” Odin bowed forward slightly. As he advanced to the door, he looked over his shoulder and gave Thor a very pointed look. It said 'Don't do anything stupid'. 

“Rise, Thor.” Loki said after a guard closed the door behind Odin. He did so, faintly wondering if he was about to be killed. But when he got to his feet, Loki walked past him to a large wardrobe on the wall behind them. She opened the wardrobe, where there were several long cloaks and elegant garments, but opened a drawer at the bottom, pulling a long flat and wooden box. There was a heavy weight that seemed to melt over the room. Loki walked back to the table, Thor could see the guards and Yova looking extremely unnerved. 

Loki set the box down on the chair, lifting the lid to reveal a dark crimson garment of some sort. She lifted the heavy looking material out, turning back to Thor and holding it up to him. It was a cape, long enough that it would drag on the ground behind Thor. He hesitantly took it, looking down at Loki questioningly.

“You will wear this during tonight's ceremonies.” She said simply. “It marks you.”

Thor understood. The fabric rippled under his touch, making it look like a river of blood. It marked him as a murderer, and he would be wearing it to the funeral of the child he had killed.

::::::::::::

Loki's chambers was a flurry of activity. The only time Thor had seen so much activity in one room was in the final hours before his own wedding. Several elder Jotuns were around the room, stirring clay paints and carefully assembling and making last minute adjustments to a large garment that had been laid across Loki's bed. 

Loki was sitting on a stool, her back straight and rigid as a pair of elder Jotun women were brushing and braiding her hair. The Queen's expression was weary but patient. 

One of the elders cast Thor a disgusted and slightly suspicious look before leaning in to whisper in Loki's ear. She glanced over at him (obviously the elderly woman had said something about him) before turning her head very slightly to say something quietly back in what Thor recognized as Old Norse. Though Thor was familiar enough with the language to recognize it, he couldn't speak or understand a word of it. 

“It is customary that when a mother loses her child before she had a chance to give him away in marriage, she is to remain naked,” Loki said slowly. None of the elders gave her recognition and it took Thor a minute to realize that she was explaining their customs to him. His lessons in their grief was to begin immediately, it seemed. “It is to reflect the nature of grief. It has no modesty. It hides nothing. Grief lays everything bare. So it is pointless for me to hide my sorrow under my clothing, you see. It is also the nature of death that everyone will lay eyes on me as if I was naked anyway.

“If Fenrir had died with a partner and child, then it would be his partner who would be naked. But since I was the most important figure in his life at the time of his death, this honor falls on me,” Loki allowed her head to be tilted slightly so the elders could begin braiding. “Jotun hair grows very fast, you see, Thor. Unlike Aesirs, who seem to grow hair all over their bodies, Jotun hair only grows on the top of our head. So it grows very fast to cover our bodies like a blanket in the cold.

“But we are no longer animals who need to hide in caves and under blankets of hair for warmth. We take pride in our hair now, and it is more often than not that it is cut to show differs in status. Braids are assembled with care; each one has a different meaning among my people.” She explained, gesturing Thor to step closer to look. This caused the elders to grumble, edging away from him. One even spit at his feet, but Loki ignored this. 

Thor looked carefully at the few braids that had been quickly assembled, finding himself awed. Somehow, designs like leaves and branches had been braided into her hair. Thor marveled at the skill it took to create such designs before Loki shooed him back with a wave of her hand, allowing the elders to resume their work. “It's not important for you to understand the meaning of each braid,” She said with a sigh. “I doubt I'd have time to explain them all to you anyway.” 

Within an hour, a forest was seemingly braided into Loki's hair, with various beads and charms woven in. She rose to her feet, and immediately elders swooped in with bowls of white paint, carefully following the tattoo-like lines on Loki's skin. Thor looked at her with askance. 

“I am the leader of my people, so I have a very important role at Offerings,” She said shortly. “Even for my own children. To make an offering to the Wayward is not as simple as stories make it out to be; you don't just slice the neck of an animal and throw it on an alter in vain hope that the spirits will take it's essence to the beyond. It requires magic of the deepest kind. I cannot hope to explain it to you and have you understand; you'll see it anyway. But there are only two people who can do this ritual properly: Myself and the High Priestess of our temples. Because this is my son, it is only right that I do this. 

“Were I not doing this ritual, however, I would remain as I was before: naked. But this is a highly formal offering. There are traditions to follow.” She had to fall silent because the elders were filling in the lines on her face with white paint. She remained silent even after they had finished and Thor watched as the elders assisted with putting on the Queen's garments.

They were a very particular sort; thick trousers of a material that looked almost wet. Her tunic technically fell to just above her knees but deep slashes were cut in the material into just below her breasts; every movement caused the material to sway, revealing the deep blue of her belly and the white lines painted into her skin. The tunic was sleeveless; silver bands that went from her wrist to her elbow were slid onto each arm and sashes were tied onto her upper arm, giving her the illusion of having wings with each movement of her arm. The same was done around her neck. Her hands and feet were left bare. She looked odd, to be sure, but magnificent and beautiful in a kind of bizarre way as well.

“Come,” She said quietly to Thor, who stepped up to her. The elders made a sort of line in front of her, falling in pairs as they walked down the halls. She turned her head slightly, looking up at Thor with a cold expression. “This is a highly intimate ceremony you will be witnessing. You are not to speak. You are not to move unless I tell you to. You will show the utmost respect to my people and my culture.”

“Of course,” Thor said quickly but Loki did not look appeased.

“Remember,” She said in a soft and dangerous tone. “I still have not decided whether or not I'll have you killed.”

:::::::::

Loki had arranged for guards to escort Thor into the throne room, where an area separate from the people had been squared off. Seven guards surrounded him, creating a wall between him and the hundreds of people gathered in the room. The throne room doors were still open, and Thor could see people standing in the doorway and beyond. It seemed that all of Jotunheim had shown up for this ceremony.

The crowd was gathered in a large U-shape, the opening being at the arc with the dead animals underneath it. In the middle, the floor had been laid with a bizarre looking black powder set in a very large circle. The light in the room was very low, only a few torches had been lit. 

Everyone in the room, save for the guards, were talking solemnly to each other. Almost all spoke in Old Norse and almost everyone stared at Thor. Some stared with curiosity, others apprehension, but the general look he got was one of anger and disgust. 

Just as Thor felt himself beginning to grow sick again, a hush fell over the room. From different places in the crowd, the elders pushed their way out. Each was holding instruments and sat with them just outside the boundaries of the black powder on the floor. The last to emerge from the crowd was Loki, who purposefully walked to the center of the circle of power. 

A complete silence fell over the room as Loki stood still in the middle. No one was speaking, no one was moving. No one even seemed to be breathing, including Thor. Everyone was fixated on Loki, waiting to see what she would do. 

She took a deep breath, and began to sing. It was a slow tune, in a language that wasn't anything Thor had heard before. It was haunting, almost terrifying. Her voice echoed through the chamber, seeming to reverberate through Thor's very bones. The grief was strong, the pain sharp enough that it felt like she was slicing Thor's stomach with a knife. 

At the end of her song, there was a brief moment of quiet. Thor briefly had time to wonder if that was it before there was a strike on the drums. The crowd now had taken up the song, filling the room up with that mournful hymn and the sounds of drums and string instruments. The people in the room stamped their feet in time with the drums and more than that, Loki was dancing. 

Her arms swayed slowly but the sashes made her look like a beautifully elegant bird ready to take flight. Her feet kicked the black powder up slightly, her body twisting like a fountain of water. Her outfit, though bizarre when she was standing still, only seemed to emphasize her being, turning her into something ethereal. Suddenly, there was a burst of light. Fire licked up the ground; the black circle of powder erupted into flames. Thor gasped, stepping forward to rush in but was stopped by the guards. He watched as Loki instead seemed to dance upon the flames, walking upon them as if they were steps up into the air. 

The singing grew louder, the pain cut Thor deeper. As he watched Loki lifted high in the air as she danced among the tips of the fire, he saw movement behind her and was once again deeply shocked. Small orbs of light, no bigger than a large pebble, were emerging from the throats of the dead animals. They drifted through the air like bubbles, circling around Loki a few times before floating back toward the giant arc and seeming to disappear through it. Thor was astounded as he watched the souls of these animals leave their bodies and directed to the Wayward by Loki. He found himself watching her once more, saw tears streaking through the paint on her face and the pure agony on her face as she continued to dance. 

Thor was suddenly slammed with what everyone in the room had been feeling: loss. Pure, horrifying loss. Regret even stronger than he had felt before flooded through his system; his emotion was constricting his throat and squeezing like a hand. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks and he had to clamp a hand to his mouth to keep himself from sobbing as he continued to watch Loki dance. He had thought the dancing was beautiful once but now he wanted her to just stop. It was terrifying and painful to watch her continue to dance on top of the flames. He just wanted her to stop and kill him already so he wouldn't have to continue feeling this torturous agony.

The singing of the people and stomping of their feet was shaking the entire room and still Loki danced. Thor was helpless to do anything but watch her and continue to weep. He was sure he heard a wolf howling at one point.

After what felt like (and certainly could have been) hours, the flames slowly fell back to the floor and eventually disappeared. The singing faded and Loki finally stopped dancing. She stood on shaking legs, turning to watch as the last of the souls went through the arc. When there were none left, the shaking of her legs grew to be too much and she collapsed to her knees. Shouts of concern raised up in the crowd and several guards ran to her side. She waved away their offers of help and rose to her feet on her own.

Her face paint smeared, she slowly walked to her throne with exhaustion evident in her stance and slowly sat down on it. One by one, each person walked up to her and clasped her hands. Neither Loki nor the people said anything, but it was important and significant that she touched hands with her people. It took several hours before she clasped hands with the last person and they exited the palace, leaving just Loki, Thor, and the guards that surrounded him. He went to take a step towards her but a guard stopped him, grabbing his shoulder abruptly.

“Give her a moment,” The guard said in a whisper and as Thor looked back at the Frost Queen, he truly agreed that she seemed to need a moment, or two, or even several months to recover from the ceremony. She had slumped in her throne, her head braced on her hand. She looked tired and hungry and like she just might whither away into ashes on her icy throne and float away. After several moments, though, she slowly rose to a perfect posture once more. After a long deep breath, she nodded at the guards. 

They stepped away from Thor, who cautiously moved toward Loki. She looked up at him blearily for a moment. 

“Thor Odinson, you have been charged with the murder of the Jotun Crown Prince Fenrir. You admitted to the crime and agree that a punishment is a necessity. You have truly witnessed the grief of my people. Have you been affected?” Loki's voice was incredibly hoarse; it sounded painful for her to talk.

“Yes, Your Majesty, absolutely,” Thor said, not at all surprised his own voice still shaking from the tears. After the ceremony he had witnessed, he would not be at all surprised if Loki sentenced him to death. It truly seemed the only suitable punishment and the only one Thor could actually really be at peace with. He had done a truly abhorrent thing. 

“And you agree that you are guilty of murder?” Loki asked.

“Yes,” Thor said. Loki nodded shortly. 

“Then kneel down and await your sentencing.” She said. Thor dropped to his knees, bowing his head forward slightly. “Guard, have someone fetch Odin and quickly. I'd like for this to be over as soon as possible.”

Despite Thor's acceptance of his imminent death, he can still feel his stomach flip at this. After the guards acknowledgment and departure, there is no sound save for the quiet breathing of the people in the room.

Thor sat, thinking of his home and his beloved Sif. Surely Father would explain things to her, make her understand that this was the only way...

Quick steps echoed through the throne room, but Thor didn't raise his head as his Father approached him and Loki. 

“Have you decided on a sentence for him?” Odin asked bluntly. Loki nodded slowly.

“I have.”

“And?” Odin seemed on edge. Thor stared down at the floor, feeling despair raking through his muscles. Father couldn't understand the grief that Thor had witnessed, that Thor had felt. Hopefully he wouldn't do anything rash because of Thor's execution. Hopefully he would spare these people anymore pain.

“Take him. Take him and go.” Loki said, defeat like a tangible thing in the air. Shock felt like a bolt of electricity in his veins as Thor stared up at her with a startled expression. Surely not! Surely she would not demonstrate her grief in front of all of her people, make Thor understand just what a horrific crime he had committed, and then just let him go!

“Thank you, Your Highness. We will--”

“No!” Thor quickly interrupted his father, rising to his feet. Loki gave him an expression that suggested he was mentally deficient and Odin looked angry enough to break his fingers.

“No?” Loki asked, amusement and irritation equal in her voice. 

“Absolutely not! This is unacceptable!” Thor said loudly. 

“Thor, bite your tongue.” Odin said, reaching to put a hand on his son's shoulder which was slapped away. 

“Are you not satisfied with this?” Loki asked. “Would you prefer execution?”

“I have witnessed one of the most moving ceremonies and made to truly understand the monstrosity of my actions! I refuse to be turned away like an innocent, not even a slap on the wrist!” Thor said through gritted teeth.

“Unfortunately for you, I'm not in the business of killing princes. You may go.” Loki rose to her feet, walking for the door back to her chambers. Odin grabbed a hold of Thor's shoulder once more, steering him towards the main door out of the throne room but anger and confusion had a steady hold on Thor. He ripped himself from his Father's grip, walking back towards Loki.

“Then I offer my services!” He shouted after her.

“Thor, no!” Odin bellowed but Thor ignored him. 

“I offer to be your guard; your honor to be my honor. Your wish to be my command.” Thor said, kneeling down in front of Loki. “I beg of you to accept.”

“You idiot boy.” Odin seethed from behind him but Thor continued to look up at Loki, who stared down at him with a cold look. “Your Highness, ignore him, please.”

“I would never accept the offering from the prince of a different realm to be a personal guard.” Loki said softly. Odin seemed to sag with relief. “But you agreed to speak to me as a man, not a prince. I accept your offer. Servants, assemble a room for the evening. I'll decide on proper quarters tomorrow. Guards, please escort Odin back to the bifrost lest he do anything he might regret.”

Thor could faintly hear Odin shouting after him as he followed after Loki, but he couldn't really hear anything except the fierce beating of his own heart in his ears. He hadn't quite processed the depths of his own actions just yet; he literally belonged to Loki now. He had given her his honor and his word. He was merely a slave with a high status now. He felt light-headed. How was he going to survive here? Why would Loki turn him away without punishment for killing her son but accept his offer of servitude without batting an eye? Thor would never see Asgard again, never see his mother or father or his beloved Sif...

As servants approached the two of them to escort Thor to his temporary chambers, Loki had an exhausted expression on her face. But as she watched Thor walk away, she had a very slight smile hiding in the corner of her lips.


End file.
